


"Don't you dare throw that snowba- goddammit!"

by Wrathofscribbles



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 05:14:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17135642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrathofscribbles/pseuds/Wrathofscribbles
Summary: Ahhhh, winter, the most wonderful time of the year.Oh please, feed that nonsense to someone else.





	"Don't you dare throw that snowba- goddammit!"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StrongheartMaid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrongheartMaid/gifts), [HisGlasses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisGlasses/gifts).



> **Big bold reminder that Final Fantasy XV and all of its content is property of Square Enix.** I just like to play in the sandpit they've created for the fans.
> 
> I'm combining two prompts here! "don't you dare throw that snowba- goddammit!" and "just once" (though I might do a separate fic for the latter one because IDEAS)

If there's one thing Ignis can't tolerate - from toddler to teenager to "young adult" - it's the relentless  _chill_ when the Lady Shiva visits Insomnia in swirls of snow and sheets of treacherous ice.  Yes, the city might look pretty with a glittering makeover and a blanket of white, but he loathes the ineffectiveness of layers, the crisp quality to air in the morning that steals his breath and has his lungs protesting, the icicles as long as his forearm shivering in their moorings to gutters and archways and window frames, certain death to those below if one mighty gust cleaves them off.  He detests the sickness snapping along at winter's heels, eager to lock its jaws on every unfortuante soul it passes and even the magic fizzing in his blood can't spare him sickness and lethargy, the headaches and bone aches and longing for a week's stay curled up in bed.

Every bloody winter, without fail, he'll fall victim to it and this one is no different.  Red, sniffling nose; light-sensitive, watery eyes; hacking cough and ragged voice; overall feeling like microwaved death and bundled in enough wool to survive the Infernian's wrath.  And as his luck would have it, miserably shuffling to and from the Citadel because the fools in Council never consider a 10 degree drop in temperature reason to stay home.  Bastards.

And to top it off!  The Astrals laugh in the face of his misery as they dash his modest dream of a steaming coffee on the way home to the wind as he steps into the courtyard only to find Prompto cautiously edging around the main fountain, camera in hand to immortalise all the frozen water on his film... and Noctis and Gladiolus employing battle strategy in their snowball fight, if the densely packed walls and accompanying  _Glaives_ are anything to go by.

"Iggy!"  Gladio calls and he swears under his breath as he freezes, caught, unable to slink back into the Citadel and escape to the spare quarters set aside for him.  He wobbles around on his heel - because of  _course_ he stopped on a patch of ice - and feels his blood run cold as he catches sight of Noctis on the prowl, stalking  _him_ ,  _armed_.

"Noctis Lucis Caelum, don't you  _dare_ throw that snowba-"

**Wap!**

"Goddammit!" He would say more, he would lecture, he would  _run_ , turn tail and flee from his prince without giving a single fuck, but the chance is stolen from him as Noctis uses the projectile as a focal point and  _warps_ at him, his path lighting up like a fireworks display as magic carves a path through time and space for him.  And then Ignis goes down like a sack of potatoes, without grace or dignity, balance compromised and shunted onto the back foot as another body's weight slams into his chest, Noct's laughter in his ears, Noct's hands cradling his skull and shielding it from a sharp impact with the cold, hard ground and he's distantly thankful that there's no brain omelette this afternoon.  Yes, the heat of Noct's body against him from chest to knee is  _nice_ but not much of a help when he's trapped on ice and stone.  Brat.

"Just once, Noctis,  _just once_ , just  _one winter_ it would be perfect and appreciated if you didn't pull this kind of stunt.  You know I loathe the cold."

"Don't we all, Iggy?  But I've got reason to torment you this time!"

"Oh  _really?"_

"Yep!  I've finally figured out the magic business and why you're never protected at winter."

"And you couldn't tell me this someplace warm, over coffee?"

"Nope," he replies, ever cheerful and with an obnoxiously loud  _pop_ , and Ignis scowls at him, protests when Noctis folds both arms over his chest and rests his chin on them.

"If I catch my death of cold -"

"You already  _have_ a cold, quit complaining.  So!  My discovery!  Turns out?  Magic doesn't just automatically grant you immunity or heal you from anything.  You have to use it first.  Like... shaking a soda bottle so it explodes out."

"With disastrous and messy consequences."

"Ah ah!  Only if you don't  _control_ it."

Certifiable  _brat_.  As if he can talk about control over magic - Ignis has the charred remains of short-lived outfits as proof!

"Get.  Off.  Me.  Now," he says, through his teeth before they can start chattering, seven levels of suspicious of the grin on Noct's face.

"Sure!  But you're gonna have to fight to get up!"

Wait, what?

He opens his mouth to - ask, maybe, or argue - but Noctis can be whip-quick and agile when he wants to be.  His weight lifts and Ignis  _scrambles_ to get his feet under him... only to be buried under the  _mountain_ of snow Noctis has somehow managed to keep intact in the Armiger, the shock of it sudden and jarring and stealing all the breath from his lungs as he's flattened like a goddamn pancake.

 _Noctis!_ Noctis, who dares to card fingers through his hair and  _laugh_.

"Catch me if you can, Iggy."  And then he's off before Ignis can even latch onto his ankle, pull him down into  _suffering_ alongside him, vanishing with an electric snap and a flash of blue shards.  And Ignis?  Ignis is going to  _kill_ him.

* * *

Ignis doesn't kill him.  He wraps magic and fire around his body instead as he levers up, quickly melting whatever snow doesn't hiss and steam off his body with every passing lick of flame.

And the moment he's on his feet he's after Noctis, pulling the heat into his bones, imagining it fueling him forward as he gives pursuit of the phantom darting around the courtyard, spinning and weaving the fire over his skin and hurling it to intercept the snowballs thrown at him, ignores the calls of the Glaives to join their cause in favour of grabbing Noctis and shoving him face first -

**BAM!**

An instant chill shower on the back of his head and Ignis pauses mid-step, swivels to find the culprit -

_"Oh shit."_

\- and there is Gladio and his guilty conscience at Ignis's mercy, diving behind the ineffective safety of his handmade wall.

It's  _on_.  Magic for magic, snowball for snowball, he'll show them why the Scientia name is one to be feared.

* * *

Ice cubes in his armpits and snowflakes scattered over his face and he can't do shit about making hot chocolate now with Noctis glued to him for warmth and whining.

"It was  _your_ bright idea to go against Gladiolus and I, Noct."

"Yeah, well, I didn't think it'd end up a game of prince dodgeball."

"Lesson learned, hm?  Never trust the Glaive to be on your side unless you're the King."

"I'm  _cold_."

"And I'm not.  Looks like your theory was right after all."

There's still a glimmer of red in Noct's irises when he draws back from the wandering of his mouth to look, but there's exhaustion too in the shadows under them, the slump of his shoulders and the weight relying on Ignis to keep him from toppling over.

"You're tired."

"Yeah.  Too much magic in one go," another frozen kiss, this one to Ignis's nose, "worth it, though."

"I'll say.  Go stick a movie on and burrow under the blankets.  I won't be long."

"Yessir."

* * *

Noct's theory is bullshit and Ignis has the splitting headache and congestion to prove it.  And Noctis has a case of the sniffling sneezes, to boot.

Lucians: 0.  Lady Shiva: 1


End file.
